Without a Word
by Imagine What Could Happen
Summary: It's not real because he's dead. It's not real because only she can see him. It's not real because he's not the only one she hears at night. Lucius/Ginny


_**Without a Word**_

_You are my sweetest downfall,_

_I loved you first,_

_I loved you first._

_- Regina Spektor, Samson_

* * *

><p>He was a <span>sick<span> and _twisted_ man,  
>His head stuck too far up his own <strong>arse<br>**It was like he had glasses on that _clouded_ his  
>v i s i o n<br>so that he only saw what he wanted to.

* * *

><p>The street is dark as he descends down it, an air of authority swims around him. The trees around him take the shape of people; he tries to hide under his robes. But they're only trees. Trees can't see.<p>

He has a smirk on his aging face, it makes him look younger, yet even more dangerous. He only ever goes to see her at night. It's the only way to make himself more elusive to her. He doesn't know why he does it; maybe to make her think that he's not real, to let her fall deeper into insanity, taking her sane thoughts and twisting them - but maybe he does it because that's the only time she's alone. The only time that stupid Potter isn't with her, trying to get her better; he doesn't want her better. If she's better then she will be stronger, she would resist, he doesn't want her to, and that's the thought that keeps him visiting her, it lets her think that she's seeing a ghost, even though she knows she's not. He's making her crazy. He doesn't care.

Lucius tries not to think of her during the day, the only thought he likes to entertain is the thought that she's thinking of him, even when he isn't thinking of her.

He reaches his destination - _her_ house. He can hear her screams . . . she's screaming his name, over and over. He can hear the lingering pain in her echoing voice; Lucius can picture her clutching blankets feebly in her fists. He tries to act like it doesn't bother him, but it's like throwing small gravel at an old stone building with a strong intention of ruining the stone: utterly impossible.

He just strands there, hearing his name being repeatedly bathed in pain. Something grasps his heart; it's cold and has an iron grip. It forces him to realise that it's his fault. He's made her this way; he's a thief, he stole her sanity. He stole her innocence.

* * *

><p>He should have been a <strong>Dementor<strong>;  
>He liked to <span>suck<span> the _life_out of  
>G i n e v r a <em>Weasley,<br>_Until she was nothing, only a  
>S h a d o w<br>Of the **girl **she was before he _loved_ her.

* * *

><p>He knows she can hear his footsteps, and he knows she's pretending to asleep to make him go away.<p>

He doesn't move. He watches her as she pretends to be asleep. She's curled into the fetal position, hands gripping the beige coloured blankets. He can see her chest rising and falling, her hair puffing up slightly by her nose.

"Go away," she whispers, her lips barely moving. He simply stares at her, face impassive. He has to realise that it was him. But the thought won't penetrate - he won't let it.

The chair scrapes on the tile flooring as he sits down, staring at her. She keeps her eyes shut in a show of pure stubbornness.

"Why should I?" he murmurs, stroking her hair; it's soft under his fingers.

She doesn't answer and he knows it's going to be a bad night. He hates bad nights. The good nights are the nights he remembers; the nights she doesn't scream and shout at him. But she can't see the truth, it's like _her_ vision is clouded, she can't see that he does what he does - what he _did_ - because once upon a time they both loved each other.

"Please . . ." she whimpers uselessly, opening her eyes and uncurling herself. She glares at him. Lucius doesn't care. He's with her; he doesn't care about anything. "Leave me alone. Haven't you done enough? Isn't making my own family - even Harry-fucking-Potter - think I'm insane enough for-" Her words are smothered back into her mouth; he's gripping her around the waist in a rather forceful embrace. It doesn't hurt her. Even if it does she doesn't whimper, she's just moulding her arms around him, biting his shoulder the way she always does.

* * *

><p>She did <em>love<em> him,  
><span>Sosomuch<span>, she just can't **help** it.  
>But he's supposed to be <em>dead<br>_(But you don't care, _**do you?**_)  
><span>No.<span> She didn't care.

* * *

><p>She wants him to leave - <em>No you don't<em> - but she's scared. She's scared that he'll never come back. _Please come back. _That pathetic fear laces her everything lucid thought – even though lucidity is now almost merely a distant memory – she's only living for his visits.

Lucius is a ghost, haunting her. She knows he's not a real ghost, she knows that what stands in front of her every night is a real person, but to everyone else he's a ghost. No one else sees him – _that's because he doesn't want them to _– so they think she's lost it. They think she's finally gone insane.

And she has.

She stares at him, feeling numb and alive, scared yet fearless.

He's sat back down.

Her heart is thumping.

"I should stop visiting you." His voice is strong and authoritative.

She says, "But you're not going to." After the three years that have led to this particular meeting, Ginny has learnt about Lucius' mind-games. She knows he's saying this to scare her, to stop her from thinking of anything but him. Pitifully, she knows that even without the needless mind-fuck, she would still be thinking about him.

He meets her eyes for the first time in at least years. "I mean it." He falters, just a little. His swallows, his eyes locked onto hers.

Her eyes are panicked, scared, and wild with fear. She shakes her head, whispering, "No. No!"

He's like a statue now, not even breathing, every muscle tensed.

"I'm sorry." He's not, though. He _is_ a statue: unfeeling. He feels no remorse to this young girl. He's screwed her beyond repair. He's messed up her head, making her believe in things that aren't there.

He can disappear into thin air and convince her he's still alive. He can click his fingers and demand her _there_ beside him. He doesn't know why. It's a desperate feeling, to be insane, he supposes. You would cling to anything solid and _real_ because the life inside your head in thrumming away louder and

_l_

_o_

_u_

_d_

_e_

_r_

drowning away any thoughts of reality. The voices of those who have passed screaming at you. It must be terrible.

He's leaving her because it isn't _right_. A dead man shouldn't feel this way for a girl who used to be so witty and stubborn. Now she crumbles too easily. He's leaving her because maybe he should let her live on while he can't.

But Lucius Malfoy is a selfish bastard.

He takes her hand, gingerly; gently. He raises it to his lips. Her eyes are filled with tears. He can't see the reflection of himself. Because he's not there.

_how can a shadow __feel__ this much?_

"Ginny . . ." he says, softly because it's near the end of a long twisting road.

She closes her eyes. When she opens them, he's gone.

_poof._

* * *

><p>"<em>Ginny"<em>

"**Gin"**

"Ginny"

she cant

h

e

a

r

them

b e c a u s e

shes deeper than shes

ever

been

before

she's swimming in a pool of

**darkness**

_death_

* * *

><p><em>A.n.: hi . . . yeah I don't know what happened, if I'm honest. Please ask me if you don't understand it, because re-reading it, it is quite patchy. It makes sense in my head, but that's because its been there since last May. I only know the month because it was like a week after the royal wedding and I was sick. Yeah . . . <em>

_please review, I'd love to hear what you thought of it. _

_Thank you :L _

_(_Without a Word _is a song by __Birdy__) _


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